


Rivers and Roads (Rivers Till I Reach You)

by serendipityinwords



Series: We Were In Screaming Color [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Fluff, slight angst, theyre both super emotionally incompetent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 05:52:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6040660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serendipityinwords/pseuds/serendipityinwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke Griffin thinks soulmates are bullshit. Then she goes ahead and falls for Bellamy Blake and she really thinks soulmates are bullshit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rivers and Roads (Rivers Till I Reach You)

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentines Day to April! She is the queen of the 100 theories and she wanted a soulmates au. So, I had to. At least I tried.
> 
> Also a huge shoutout to the organizers of the bellarke secrets valentines. This was so much fun. You guys are the real MVP.
> 
> Anyways, I really hope you guys like it. 
> 
> Title from Rivers and Roads by The Head and The Heart.

Clarke doesn’t get soulmates. Don’t get her wrong, she understands the basics. She knows that the world is black and white until you kiss them. Then there’s color. She’s heard stories about seeing color. She’s heard that it’s like the stars are exploding, when you find them. It’s like the planets align and sometimes, when the kiss is really good, it’s like time never existed before they were there.

Clarke thinks it’s a bunch of bullshit.

First of all, why can you only see color after a kiss? And does it matter how long the kiss lasts? And where do you have to kiss the person to see it? Would a kiss on the cheek suffice? Tongue or no tongue? How do you know they’re the only one? What if there are more and you just happen to kiss _this_ person? There are too many variables. Too many things that could go wrong. Clarke doesn’t like it.

And fine, Clarke is an artist; she’d like to see it. But she doesn’t need color, per se. She’s fine the way things are. She’s better with shapes. She deals in the abstract. She doesn’t need to see colors to see beauty.

And there are plenty of people who live their entire lives seeing in shades of grey. Sure, the rate of divorce is much lower with soulmates but there are happy people who don’t see color. Her parents were happy before her dad died. (It’s a completely different matter that her mom had found her actual soulmate, months after and is just as happy with him).

Frankly, she doesn’t see what the fuss is about, but she was indifferent about it. Live and let live, as far as she was concerned.

Then, she kisses Wells and everything goes to shit.

She’s sixteen when Wells asks her if he can kiss her. Clarke could have said no. Wells wouldn’t mind. They’ve known each other since practical infancy. Wells is her best friend in the world, he could handle Clarke not wanting to kiss him. Honestly, Clarke thinks the only reason he wants to kiss her, is because he needs to get it out of the way. Especially, since everyone seems to think that they're actua; soulmates. She can’t exactly blame them. They're similar in so many ways. If Clarke wants to do something, chances are, he’d already beaten her to it.

So yeah, she could see it.

Frankly, there are worse things than getting Wells as a soulmate.

So she says yes and she wrings her arms around his neck and kisses him. She’s tried it before. With Maya (who wasn’t interested in girls but liked her hair) and Monty (who wasn’t interested in girls but was curious). This may have been her first time kissing someone who could actually want her. So she kisses him deeply, arching her back, slotting herself into him. She opens her eyes and she can’t tell the color of the sky.

She isn’t exactly disappointed. The kiss was fine and Wells could have been something more. But she feels like there should be something more than this. More than just fine.

When she pulls way, she’s about to make some joke about color being less colorful than she’d expected when he gasps. He staggers a little, eyes widening and Clarke thinks, _oh no. Oh no_. She can’t see it. She can’t see color. But he can.

She’s heard of it happening before. She’s felt bad for those it happens to. She’s felt bad about it absently. The way, sometimes you do when you’re bored and there isn’t much else to do. But she doesn’t expect this. She feels a kind of physical fist in her throat and it makes it hard for her to breathe.

He runs his fingers through her hair, and she stands so still, her heart is loud is in her own ears.  “Your hair is bright, Clarke,” he says, breathless and Clarke hates herself for it. “It’s like the sun.”

She swallows. “I can’t—“

Wells is smart. She knows he knows but she can’t look directly at him. Her feet shuffle beneath her and she swallows. “Oh.” Wells deflates visibly and she wants to look away again. But she doesn’t. Can’t.  She places a hand at his chest, trying to reassure him as much as steady herself, and tries to ignore the way she feels his heart break. She did this.

“Wells,” she begins. She doesn’t know what to say to fix this. She wants so badly to see color. She wants so badly to know just how much darker he is than her. She wants to kiss him and see it. She wants to go back to a time when she hadn’t kissed him so he wouldn’t see it.

“Your hair really is pretty, Clarke. I hope one day you’ll see it.” He rests a hand on her shoulder and she can’t believe him, trying to comfort her when she clearly isn’t the one who needs it. But she doesn’t know what she can say to make him forget this. The colors are enough for him to remember. She tries to picture them, but she can’t wrap her head around it. She settles on the ground and waits for a second till he drops down next to her.

She nods numbly and looks out, into the shifting colors of the sky. She can’t see them, of course. It’s black and white and a million shades of grey to her. She doesn’t know what Wells sees. But for the first time in her life, she doesn’t want to. They’ve never been more different in their lives.

Wells holds out his hand and Clarke takes it. She feels warm where his palm rests against hers. He might be able to tell what color her eyes are, but not much else has changed. She has to believe that. They sit like that for a while before the sun sets and she needs to get home for supper.

Nothing much does change.

They never speak of it again.

She meets Bellamy Blake when she turns twenty-three and needs a place to stay. Their apartment is big but she can hear him swear at at his computer when his essays take a toll on him.

Bellamy is stop and stare kind of pretty. He’s all freckles and curly hair and nice arms. His smirk is equal parts endearing and infuriating and he’s fucking smart. He’s a dick but a well-intentioned one and yeah, Clarke might have had a thing for him.

But there are a parade of girls coming out of his room, morning after morning and honestly, she’s surprised he hasn’t found his soulmate yet with all the different girls he’s probably kissed. Clarke’s crush on him is blinding, but short-lived.

She's mostly surrendered herself to being his friend. And he’s a pretty great friend. So far, their friendship consisted of half-hearted insults, stupid amounts of arguing and lots of Netflix. She sometimes, catches herself thinking of kissing him. Just to see if anything would happen. She doubts it, though. Clarke and Bellamy couldn’t be any more different.

But Bellamy’s a friend and she’s grateful for him.

(She doesn’t wonder if he’s strong enough to lift her against the counter top. That’s just innapropriate.)

Clarke has kissed six people since Wells and has fucked more than that. None of them change anything. They’re always nice. They’d always lead to more. She’s never wished to see color. The whole thing with Wells shook her enough to want to hold back on the great romances and she doesn’t think much else of it.

Then, she meets Finn and she wants it so badly. Because Finn is pretty and Finn doesn’t believe in soulmates either. Finn believes in hard work in relationships and practicality. Neither of them see color but it’s okay. They don’t need it.

And then she meets Raven and she really, really fucking hates romance.

Once they’d both broken up with Finn, Clarke offers Raven a ride. Raven says yes. But she doesn’t have anywhere to go. Apparently, she’d come to surprise visit Finn for the holidays and planned to crash at his place. He was surprised and she had nowhere to crash.

So Clarke had offered up her room. She briefly wondered if this was going to end in disaster. She watches Raven stare out their window and settles in next to her. Raven glances over and offers her a weak smile. Practically non-existent. But she’s trying.

“Hey,” Clarke says.

Raven keeps staring out the window, but she shifts slightly closer. “Hey.”

“This is weird right?”

“The weirdest.”

Clarkes pauses before blurting, “You’re gorgeous.”

Raven looks up at her in surprise, eyes glinting in amusement. “Thanks, but you’re not my type.”

“No, that’s not what I mean.” Clarke considers her.  “That’s kind of what I mean. But, look, you’re gorgeous and you’re probably intelligent and you both see color and I feel like a fucking idiot.”

Raven tilts her head and stares at Clarke. She can’t help but shift a little. “Look, I’ve seen color for so long, I don’t even remember what it’s like to not see it. I don’t know what it is about color but I can see why he liked you.” She gestures vaguely at her. “You’re full of it.”

“Thanks,” Clarke says, a little taken back.

Raven sighs deeply. “Look, Clarke. I’m not exactly over the fucking moon that you fucked Finn, but you didn’t know.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Finn’s family, Clarke. I see color because of him. He’s not going to leave my life just because he doesn’t love me the way I want to be loved.” She sounds like she’s reciting something, so Clarke nods.

“If it makes you feel any better, he’s a real dumbass for letting you go.”

“It does. Kind of. I deserve better, Clarke.”

“I’m sorry.” Because, she is.

“It’s not your fault my boyfriend—Ex-boyfriend— is a shitty asshole.”

“It’s not not my fault,” she remarks, petulant.

Raven’s smile is real this time. “It’s not not not your fault.”

“What?”

And then they’re laughing and Clarke feels like it’s a kind of expulsion. Like she was supposed to be laughing with Raven at this point of time. Like it was a kind of falling back together. Falling into place.

“What’s going on?” Clarke recognizes Bellamy’s mop of curls peeking through the doorframe before he enters the apartment.

“Finn cheated on me. Well, he cheated with me, actually. He cheated on her _with_ me. So, naturally, she’s staying with me this week.”

Bellamy looks between both girls, curious, and Clarke is a little appreciative that he doesn’t offer condolences, like she knew anyone with social skills would. She’s glad he’s clueless.  She’s glad he’s him.

“Either of you want me to kick his ass?” he asks simply. He sounds casual but Clarke knows he would probably do it.

Raven makes a show of considering it.  “Nah, I would have done it myself if I wanted to.”

She might have gotten a better look at him as he settles down on the other end of the couch, because Raven look him up and down, so unsubtle, even Clarke blushes. She can’t blame her. Clarke’s notices and for all of Bellamy’s cluelessness, he’s noticed too. “Clarke, aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“Raven; The beautiful human my asshole ex-boyfriend was actually dating. Bellamy; Just a general dick.”

Bellamy smirks at her and she smirks right back. They’re kind of perfect for each other. She ignores the lurch in her stomach at the thought.

Later, Bellamy’s washing the dishes and Raven’s head is resting on Clarke’s shoulders. She smells like cheap alcohol, but so does Clarke.

“Is he a good lay?” Raven asks.

“Who?”

“The general dick.”

“That sounds like a rank, or something.” Raven gives her an unimpressed look. Clarke thinks of saying that he isn’t. She really wants to and she doesn’t understand why.  She knows he’s probably great by the look of contentment every girl has coming out of his room. She doesn’t say that either. “I wouldn’t know.”

Raven looks at her, calculating. She doesn’t know her new friend all that well, but she knoes it can’t mean anything good. “Huh.”

The next day, Clarke sees Raven come out of Bellamy’s room and grips her mug a little harder than necessary.

“So, are you feeling better?” She asks, handing her another mug of coffee.  Because she actually does hope she’s feeling better. Raven’s great, she wouldn’t want anything less for her.

Raven takes the mug, grateful. “I’m getting there. Pretty boy helped.”

“You and Bellamy?” she asks, painfully bad at being nonchalant.

Raven smiles knowingly—which isn’t even fair. Clarke doesn’t even know. “He’s a good fuck but we’re just friends.”

“Huh,” she says absently. Raven raises an eyebrow and hums. “What?”

“Nothing.”

She likes Raven but she’s a little terrified of her.

It’s been over a month since Finn and Raven and Clarke are going strong. Clarke can’t help but feel a little grateful for Finn. He might have been a dick but Raven is kind of worth it.

Clarke invites Raven over for game night and they play a warped version of monopoly because they’re all too drunk for rules.

“Am I winning? I can’t tell,” Wells says, frowning at the board.

“No, I am,” Clarke says.

Bellamy makes an indignant noise. “That’s because you’re cheating.”

“How the fuck would you know?” Clarke shoots back.

Raven and Wells exchange a look she isn’t completely sure she likes. They’d been doing that a lot lately, what with Raven moving in next door to Wells. She thinks they might have a shot. She thinks neither of them is going to try anytime soon. She hopes they do. God knows they deserve it. She looks over at Bellamy. She’s one to talk.

“This game is fucking stupid, I’m getting more alcohol,” says Raven.

“I’m coming, too.” Wells gets up and leaves after her and the whole thing is so not smooth, she wants to laugh.

“They’re trying to set us up,” Bellamy mutters, casual. She glances over at him. He’s chewing the inside of his lip and his eyes dart slightly. She wonders briefly which one of them Raven is doing the favour for. In the end, it doesn’t matter because Clarke just snorts and they get back to arguing over monopoly and capitalism.

It’s just the way she likes it.

Mostly.

“Why can’t I have casual sex?” Clarke asks, head resting against the back of Raven’s ratty couch. For an engineer, you’d think she could afford better.  Family Feud is on and Raven and Clarke drink every time Steve Harvey looks like he wants to go to church to be cleansed of his sins.

“Because you don’t believe in the soulmates bullshit but you’re also incapable of accepting anything less than true love and, to top it off, you’re terrified of commitment and just a mess in general.”

Clarke nods, serious. “Ah, that’s why.”

Someone says the word tiddies on national television and they both drink.

“Also, you’re in love with Bellamy.”

That gets her sputtering. “I am not.”

“Whatever you say,”

Clarke bristles. “I’m definitely not!”

“You can’t see it, but you’re red all over.”

“Raven,” she warns.

Raven shrugs. “I’m just saying. You were pretty jealous when you found out we had sex.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. And besides, that could also mean I’m in love with you,” she points out, a little too defensively.

“While I am most definitely the better choice, we both know that’s not true.”

“Fine, we’re both adults here. I’ll admit that he’s hot. But I’m not in _love_ with him, or anything. Besides, he’s never serious about anyone.” She wants to feel a sense of victory, but it just gets her upset.

Raven lets out an incredulous laugh. “When was the last time you saw him with another girl?“ Clarke opens her mouth but she can’t actually remember. She thinks the last one might have been Raven. She doesn’t know what to do with this information. “I can’t believe you’re this clueless.”

“Says the girl who doesn’t know she’s in love with her neighbor.” Raven stiffens and Clarke immediately wishes she hadn’t said it. She isn’t exactly the best person to bring this up especially since Raven knows who his soulmate _is_.

“He isn’t exactly my soulmate, is he?” She knows Raven doesn’t it mean to be an insult but she flinches anyway.

“You’re not exactly soulmates with Finn either, are you?” Clarke probes, gentle. “Wells is family, Raven. But he feels something with you. Don’t you think you should take a chance on yourself?”

Raven relaxes and heaves a sigh too big for her body. “We’re a mess.”

Clarke grins. “Nothing that can’t be cleaned up.”

Someone says balls and they both drink.

Clarke finds Bellamy lying on the couch, reading and it takes all her self-control not to throw the book into the trash can next to them. She plops down beside him and he nods at her in greeting.

“We live together and I had to find out from your sister that it’s your birthday,” she seethes. Clarke is a little outraged and Bellamy looks sufficiently scared.

Bellamy sets his book down and sits up, grimacing. “I was hoping O wouldn’t call.”

She rolls her eyes. “Do you even know your sister? She calls to make sure you’re eating well.”

“But you do that on your own.”

“Don’t tell anyone. You’ll ruin my reputation of being a cold heartless bitch.”

Bellamy snorts. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t tell anyone it’s my birthday.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because I don’t like to be reminded of life’s fragility and the inevitability of death?”

“Try again.”

“Because I don’t think it’s important.” Clarke is silent, so he goes on. “I mean, when I was a kid, my mom couldn’t afford it. And then she died, and I couldn’t afford it. It seems kind of pointless now, is all.”

Clarke thinks about nodding and leaving him alone. She thinks about respecting his wishes and being only a normal level of concerned for him. She thinks about it for a good few seconds.

“You know what? Your birthday is important to me. You’re fucking important to me.”

Bellamy blinks at her. “Okay.”

“Let me finish.”

“I didn’t stop y—“

“You’re this great guy. Look at you. You help people and you’re smart and you’re hilarious. Sometimes, I’m so glad you exist, I don’t know what to do with myself. I don’t know what I would do without you and I think it’s really important to know because I really feel like you have some self-esteem issues stemming from your terrible childhood—“ Bellamy moves so fast, she stops dead. His hands come around either side of her face and he grazes her lips with his. Clarke sees stars. He leans in a little and Clarke does the rest of the work. She kisses him like he’s air and she’s never breathed in her life. She feels hot all over and it’s kind of perfect. She doesn’t see color, she realizes, slightly disappointed and neither does he. He looks a little dazed, but he doesn’t stagger back in shock like Wells did.

There are billions of people in the world; it wasn’t like she was expecting Bellamy Blake to be her soulmate. Yet, she can’t help but feel like he should have been. Still, when he kisses her again, she can’t bring herself to care. She never believed in soulmates anyway.

He’s kind of perfect for her anyway.

He pulls away, out of breath. “Do you want me to stop?”

Her fingers find the buttons of his shirt. “Don’t.” She presses a kiss against his jaw and feels him shiver. “No.” One at the hollow of his neck.  “Never.” One at the start of his chest.

“You’re a miracle, Clarke Griffin,” he mumbles against her head and her heart feels like it might explode. She can’t help but feel like all is right in the world when he slips off her blouse kisses her again.

She wakes up the next morning, caught in Bellamy Blake. He smells like himself. Like coffee and coconuts.  She’s smiling before she can open her eyes.

And then she does and she stops breathing.

It’s color. It’s orange bleeding into purple. That’s the sky, she thinks. It’s framed by green curtains and Bellamy’s chest is brown and the world is shifting into place. She remembers Wells saying that her hair is like the sun. It really is. And Bellamy hair is like the night sky. She thinks, unbidden, that color might exist just for him because he is so beautiful her chest hurts.

But he wakes up, blinking sleep from his eyes (brown; almost black), good morning spilling from his lips (painfully pink) and she realizes it. Her world has been inverted and his is the same.

She isn’t his soulmate.

She stumbles out of the bed, slipping on the blouse she had worn the night before (orange).

Bellamy looks up at her. “Where are you going?”

“Work thing,” she answers, hovering awkwardly at the door.

“It’s Sunday.”

“Church.”

Bellamy levels a look at her that makes her want to scream. “Clarke, we have to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. Neither of us see color.” The lie slips out easily but it  fits so she lets it. She can’t let him know she sees color. She knows him. He’d feel obligated to stay with her. She’d only hold him back. She thinks of Wells and how he’d never let that happen. She steels herself and looks back. It’s so much harder now that she really sees him. It hurts so much worse.

A flash of hurt appears on his face and she wants to kick herself. “So? I thought you thought soulmates were bullshit in the first place. And we like each other—“

“For how long? My mom didn’t see color with my dad. Now, my dad’s dead and she sees color with Marcus.”

She realizes that it’s true. She hadn’t thought that the thing with her other bothered her before. Her parents were happy while they were together. But what if her dad hadn’t died? What if she found Marcus later? What then? If she stays with him, she’ll be waiting for the other shoe to drop her entire life. She’d live her whole life knowing that someone better might come along. She can’t do that.

His jaw tightens. “Fine.”

In the end, he storms out before she does and she starts crying right after.

Color blurs beautifully.

He comes back an hour later, looking considerably less miserable. She’s not a good enough person to feel happy about it.

“You’re right,” he says simply.

“I was?”

“I don’t want to hold you back, Clarke. I don’t want to be _that_ guy when your real soulmate comes along.”

“Yeah.” Her voice feels weak and fragile; like she can’t actually speak.

“We can just pretend this never happened.”

“Yeah.” He holds her in his arms and she settles in. How can he not see color, when she fits this right in his arms?  “Okay. We’re fine.”

“We’re fine,” he echoes.

She hopes he can’t hear her heart breaking.

She paints again. It’s a mass of purple and pink and green. Swirls of colors she finds so familiar. She stares after she’s done. She doesn’t know what to feel but she thinks her heart is putting itself back together. She thinks this is the beginning of something else.

“This is beautiful,” Anya says. She blinks at her. Anya is her professor. She’s never said anything remotely nice about her work before. She wants to be pissed that seeing color had made her so much of a better artist. Nowadays, she’s just amused.

“Thanks.”

“Do you see color, Miss Griffin?”

“Yes,” she replies mechanically.

“Congratulations.”

She barely chokes back a laugh. “Thanks.”

Lexa is beautiful and terrifying and she doesn’t see color. She used to. But Costia died and now she doesn’t and she’s pretty angry about it.

Clarke is in her bed because she’s kissed her raw and still, only one of them sees color.

“Do you miss it?” she asks, playing with her brown curls, wishing they were darker.

“What?” she turns to face her, more out of obligation than anything.

“Color.” Lexa stiffens and sighs all at once.

She thinks of Bellamy again. How they don’t talk as much. How she wishes they did.

“Color is magnificent, you’d know,” she says and Clarke smiles. “But sometimes, I’m glad it’s gone. It all reminds me of her. She had brown eyes. Her favourite color was pink. I’m glad I don’t see them anymore. I miss Costia more than color.”

Clarke is silent for a while. She knows the natural line of conversation and where Lexa’s going to go. So she gets her off again.

But that only stalls her for a while.

“You have a soulmate, Clarke. I’ll give you some advice.” She shifts over completely to face her. Her eyes are startlingly green and she thinks of painting them but she ends up going back to brown, instead. She always does. “Go back to them. Thank them. Tell them that they make color better. Don’t wait. You don’t have time for that.”

Clarke nods and she wants to tell her how much she wants to. She wants to tell her how much she can’t.

In the end, her mouth meets the inside of her thighs and Lexa moans too loud, anyway.

They break up and Clarke doesn’t feel much. At least now the way she feels when Bellamy pulls her into his arms or when he brings her coffee when she stays up too late. Clarke wishes she did. She wishes it so much, she feels the need solidifying itself into anger. She’s glad.

When Bellamy comes home, the bottle of wine is half-gone. She’s working on the second half when he pries it away gently from her hands. Too gently. It makes her chest hurt.

“Raven told me about Lexa.”

“She broke up with me,” she confirms. She wishes she sounds worse. But she doesn’t and Bellamy knows.

“And you didn’t think you could tell me any of this?” he asks, hurt.

“Bellamy, it’s nothing personal. I just thought it would be weird. Considering what happened—“

“Whatever happens, whatever’s between us, it doesn’t matter. I will always be here. I will always _want_ to be here.”

Clarke nods and leans into him.  But she feels her heart at her throat and she hears blood roaring in her ears.

She falls asleep on his shoulder before she can do something like kiss him or tell him that his eyes are the color of chocolate and she loves him.

When she wakes up the next day, it’s in her own room and her hangover makes her head feel like lead. Clarke finds Bellamy staring at her painting and Clarke feels her heart speed up in her chest.

“You see color?”

“Bellamy—“ she begins.

He looks up at her and there’s this look on his face. Like he’s going to take over the world. “Your eyes are cerulean.”

Clarke blinks. “What?”

“I had to find the exact shade. At first, I thought it was teal. Then, I realized it was lighter. I think it’s cerulean but I’m still getting a hang of this color thing.”

“You see color.” She swallows so hard, it hurts her throat. “Who?” She asks, because she is, apparently, a masochist.

“When,” he says. “Ask me when.”

“When?”

“After I caught you sneaking away and I stormed out. I went to take a walk in this fucking—I didn’t know then— green-ass park and I sat down and blinked and there was color. Fucking everywhere. I nearly passed out. It was such an overload and all I could think of was you.” He sets the painting down and looks up at Clarke, who can’t seem to remember how words worked. “Anyway, I figured that you couldn’t see color and I didn’t want to hold you back. So technically, I didn’t lie.”

She stares at him. “What you’re saying is we’re regular run-off the mill soulmates?”

“For a blonde, you’re pretty smart.”

A laugh bubbles out of her. “Christ.”

“I know.” He grins at her and she feels herself mirroring it. He’s so beautiful when he smiles. He’s so beautiful. His hands find her waist and she falls into him. She can’t imagine anything else.

“We have the worst timing.”

“The worst,” he repeats.

“How’d you figure out I can see color?”

He smiles at her a little sheepish and she touches the edge of it, incredulous. This is hers. “I woke up at the crack of dawn one day and I see so much color. It kind of hurt, it was so beautiful. And the first thing I see is purple and yellow and it’s kind of bleeding together, right? And I think it looks pretty familiar.”

Her eyes widen. “The painting.”

“You painted the first colors you’d ever seen. At least, I was hoping.”

“That could have really backfired. It would have been totally embarrassing. ”

He laughs and she kisses him again. She wants his hands on her, everywhere. She’s breathless with the want. She’s so full of uncontainable glee, she can’t believe it took them this long. She sees him flush and she’s glad she can see color, if only to see the pink travelling down his chest.

“I love you. I just realized that we keep tossing the word soulmate around but it’s pretty ridiculous we haven’t admitted to being in love with each other yet. Unless you’re not. Then we can pretend I never said anything in the first place.”

He presses his forehead against hers, and his smile is so fucking fond, it puts an end to her suffering. There’s no way he feels anything less. “No. I mean, I love you, too. Of course I love you.”

He kisses her again but he’s smiling too much and it gets kind of ridiculous.

Clarke kisses his cheek. “Are you sure? I’m a little bit broken.”

His fingers trail the edge of her arms and she shivers. “So am I.”

“I have all this baggage.”

“What a coincidence.”

“I’m kind of a dick.”

“You already know I am.”

“Just to be clear, we’re definitely doing it.”

“That’s no way to refer to my body.”

“Bellamy,” she starts.

“Kidding.” She smacks his shoulder, light and he laughs. “Even if I didn’t see color, Clarke, even then, I’d want everything with you. You’re kind of stuck with me.”

And maybe all she knows about soulmates is wrong. Because in the end, it isn’t like stars exploding or planets aligning. It's inside jokes and familiarity. It's grins smothered in kisses. It's insults that aren’t really. It's hands around waists and foreheads pressed against each other. It's this.

It's coming home.

“It could have been worse.”

“So, you guys were soulmates from the get-go, but neither of you guys told the other?” Wells asks. It’s game night and Raven and Wells are holding hands under the table, and they're playing monopoly wrong. They all see color and it’s kind of great.

Bellamy grins into his beer. “An over simplified version of the story, but fair.”

“What I’m hearing is you guys are the biggest pair of dumbasses on the face of the earth,” Raven supplies.

“Basically,” Clarke agrees.

“I mean Wells and I; We’re like star-crossed lovers, always meant to be torn apart before meeting again. We are like the sand and the sea.”

“The sun and the moon,” offers Wells.

“Exactly. And you two fell in love with each other before finding out that you’re each other’s soulmate—I mean, you literally started seeing color— and it still took you forever to get together?”

Clarke shrugs, trying hard not to laugh. “Um? Yes.”

Raven leans back into the couch and actually cackles. “Hey, I’m  just glad you fuckwads got your head out of your asses and made out.”

“We do so much more than make out. We’re soulmates. It’s written in the stars that we are to be together.” Bellamy scowls the way he does, when he’s amused but doesn't want to be, and Clarke plants a kiss on his cheek, just because she can.

“To be fair, we do make out a lot,” she chirps.

“Yeah, we do. We got nothing. Good talk.”

Raven and Wells are, once again, unsubtle as they leave, muttering some excuse Clarke and Bellamy are too amused to hear.

“We were pretty dumb, weren’t we?” Clarke asks.

“The dumbest.”

“But we’re not dumb anymore, right?”

Bellamy places a kiss at her jaw. “We are. But not about this.”

“I can live with that.”

“This is a forever thing, Griffin.”

The neon lights from outside light up his face and she sees it all at once. His fondness. His love. His beauty. He was so much all at once, she couldn’t breathe. But she does, because he’s there and everything easier with him.

She is so grateful for color.

She grins. “I’d be upset if it were any less.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm idontgiveaneffie on tumblr. Come cry with me about fictional characters.


End file.
